


a different kind of man

by Drac



Category: The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: Ableism, Gen, Hickey-typical manipulation, M/M, Period Typical Attitudes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-12 09:27:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29382768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drac/pseuds/Drac
Summary: Magnus is a good boy, but he's also a man - seems like Mr Gibson's the only one who realises that.
Relationships: Magnus Manson/William Gibson (kinda)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 19
Collections: The Terror Bingo, The Terror Rarepair Week 2021





	a different kind of man

Magnus’ dad is a builder, so when he says ‘You’re dumb as a brick, son,’ Magnus figures he knows what he’s talking about.

Besides, bricks are useful, and strong, and it’s a funny line, when some bastard-or-another who knows nothing about farms says, ‘Christ, this guy’s thick as pig shit -’

‘- as a brick, actually.’

The boys laugh and slap his back and help him with his letters in exchange for tobacco, which he’s never really liked. Evans calls Strong a brick, no hint of an insult. _Me too_ , thinks Magnus.

They’re nice lads, all in all, and they like him, though Magnus can’t find the particular word for how he feels when one of them will crow at another - ‘My God, you’re stupid -’ and then, without missing a beat - ‘Sorry, Magnus.’

What does that _mean_ \- Magnus has certainly never told them off for it, nor told them that he’s been called stupid before, but they all do it, almost to a man except -

Mr Gibson asks Magnus to help him carry his laundry baskets down the ladder -

‘They _are_ heavy,’ he says, to let Gibson know he doesn’t think him _weak_ , but Gibson hefts them back into his own arms once they’re down.

‘Not heavy,’ he says, smirking over his shoulder, ‘just unwieldy. I’m stronger than I look.’

Mr Gibson doesn’t look strong at all; half transparent, all his bones too close to the surface like a coursing dog. Magnus fancies that when he lights the lamp he can see the flame through the skin of his hand, lit up like stained glass.

‘Didn’t say otherwise,’ says Magnus, looking away guiltily from Mr Gibson’s hands and beginning to hook up the ropes he’ll use to dry the bedsheets.

‘I was a seaman before this,’ says Gibson, untangling the first wet sheet and turning it around to find the long edge, his fingers going red and clumsy against the freezing dampness - ‘sailed all around Africa and China with Mr Peglar, and then Lieutenant Hodgson. Never imagined I’d end up here.’

‘Do you like it?’ Magnus asks, and Gibson pauses, bites the inside of his mouth, making his gaunt face gaunter -

‘Different,’ he says eventually, ‘makes you a different kind of man.’

-

‘That thing’s gone too far,’ says Mr Hickey to the men - ‘stealing our men off of the ship? And you _know_ who’d know -’

‘That Esqui girl,’ says Armitage, ‘the captains wanna question her - I heard them -’

‘He’s got a good ear on him,’ says Hickey, impressed, ‘we oughtta go get her.’

‘Well, we can’t _all_ go,’ says Hartnell, ‘even if they let volunteers.’

‘I don’t mean _waiting_ , I mean _now_ \- we know where she is, there’s enough of us -’

‘Are you _mental_?’

‘She might have cleared off by the morning,’ says Armitage, and he looks to Hickey for approval, who nods -

‘Right! We get her back here sharpish, before her and her bloody bear can cause any more trouble. Who’s with us?’

Magnus nods, recalling the stiff horror he’d glimpsed on poor Strong before they’d adjusted the cloth over him.

‘Yeah,’ he says, ‘I’ll come.’

‘Magnus!’ says Hartnell, ‘Are you out of your _mind_?’

‘I saw what it did to Strong and Evans -’

‘ _I_ saw what it did to Lieutenant Gore,’ says Hartnell, ‘if she is controlling it… she’s not to be trifled with.’

‘Right!’ says Hickey again, ‘So, the more of us, the easier it’ll be. Golding, you with us?’

‘Fuck, no,’ says Golding, laughing as he backs away.

‘Fine!’ says Hickey, evenly, ‘Armitage, you’ll get us a gun or two?’

‘- on it.’

‘And Magnus, some rope?’

Magnus nods again, eyes wide, and Hartnell grabs his shoulder and half pulls him around - ‘Are you serious right now?’

‘Are you _coming_ , Hartnell?’

Tom looks between Magnus and Hickey, then rolls his eyes.

‘I’ll get a lamp.’

-

The girl’s ice house is almost exactly where Hickey said it would be. The four of them crouch behind a serac and watch it for a moment - the flickering pinkish light within it catching the fast-passing snowflakes, her shadow against its wall.

‘D’ya know any of her language, Hartnell?’

‘What?’ says Tom, looking over, ‘No.’

‘Just asking,’ says Armitage, sullenly, ‘from when you were with her before.’

‘She was a bit preoccupied at the time, to be teaching me -’

‘Shut up!’ says Hickey, a hand shielding his brow, ‘Look - she’s moving in there.’

Her shadow swings across the curved ice wall, then shrinks into its low doorway. Armitage says -

‘Has she got a second house there?’

‘If there are more of them, we’ve gotta go back - Mr Hickey -?’

‘Shush!’ says Hickey, ‘We’ll just watch… a little…’

Silence shuffles toward her second ice house, awkwardly, on her knees as she leaves the first -

‘Maybe that’s just where she sleeps?’ says Magnus - and then the house stands up.

They’re struck dumb, all of them, staring at the ice house as it becomes - oh God, a _bear_ , that bear that had killed Lieutenant Gore and Sir John and Tommy Evans and - Tom Hartnell’s hand grabs Magnus’ sleeve.

‘What now?’ he breathes in Hickey’s direction.

‘Wait -’ Hickey’s stiller than the ice, than the ships those few miles away -

Lady Silence holds out her hands - the snow has stopped, and the wind, and Magnus can see her hot breath swirling against itself in the moonlight.

Her bear turns. It’s looking right at them.

‘Oh God,’ says Armitage, ‘oh Christ -’

\- and it turns again and _runs_ , a bolting horse as big as a house, its heavy footfalls fading into the distance.

Silence still has a hand out - she wheels around, but she can’t see them. Even so, she scrambles back into her ice house.

‘What are we gonna _do_?’ asks Armitage, his face ghostly under his wig, ‘She’s gonna make a run for it - then we might never see her again - she doesn’t even need to take her house down, she could just -’

Mr Hickey is running - pressing his cap to his head with one hand and clutching the coil of rope with the other, single-mindedly, with the grace of a cat - towards Silence’s ice house.

‘What the f-’ says Hartnell.

‘What’s he doing?’ says Armitage - Magnus leaps up the ridge to follow, and he hears the Toms behind him doing the same.

Lady Silence doesn’t quite live up to her name - she grunts and makes sharp noises in her throat as they wrestle her, though nothing resembling speaking, not even the strange musical tones that Dr MacDonald had once told Magnus of, one evening as he’d shifted supplies to the sick-bay.

‘Like she’s taken a vow,’ says Hartnell, ‘like a nun.’

‘Kicks worse than a nun.’

‘You in the habit of grabbing nuns, Armitage?’

‘Shut it,’ says Hickey, and they all do - consciously or unconsciously following his lead even once they’re back on the ship. Hickey doesn’t point out Armitage, coated in snow as the rest of them, and so Tom and Magnus don’t either.

It’s worse to be lashed than Magnus had imagined, and worse than Tom had warned him - with his back to the bulk of the men but the steward and officers; he can’t look at Armitage for fear, or Gibson for shame, and Lieutenant Irving’s demeanour is pure disgust when he begins to weep.

‘You ought to be careful,’ says Mr Hickey three days later, brushing his hand on Magnus’ sleeve when he’s just come up the ladder, still walking awkward from his lashing -

‘What do you mean?’

‘With Mr Gibson,’ says Hickey, but he smiles, real friendly-like, ‘just that Lieutenant Irving’s in a Right Mood these days.’

Magnus blinks - he’s not helped Gibson since they put Strong and Evans down into the hold ‘I don’t - I’m doing all the work I can, I -’

‘I mean being sweet on him,’ says Hickey, ‘on Gibson. ‘Cause _I’ve_ noticed - and Lieutenant Irving’s like a _hawk_ -’

All the blood in Magnus’ body rushes to his head in a terrible, humiliated wave - he puts his face in his hand and says -

‘ _Oh no_!’

‘Hey!’ says Hickey, ‘Hey! It’s alright! I’m looking out for you. Friend to friend.’

‘I didn’t _know_!’ says Magnus, and he does feel it, then - like a pervert, watching Mr Gibson with cow-eyes as he sorts out sheets; Stupid, like Hickey should apologise for bringing it up.

‘It’s alright, Magnus,’ says Hickey, ‘I’m not dobbing anyone in.’

His touch is gentle, reaching up to Magnus’ shoulder, but the lash-marks on his back scream with pain - he screws his eyes shut tight as Hickey pats at him another time -

‘Dirtiness is… well, it’s a vague charge,’ he smiles again, ‘I’d not like to see you lashed again.’

-

It’s two weeks later that Gibson walks past, lugging his basket, and catches his eye.

Magnus looks away.

‘Alright, Magnus?’ he calls, ‘Give us a hand down the ladder?’

He can’t ignore a direct address - ‘Yeah. Course.’

This time, Gibson doesn’t snatch the whole weight of the basket once he’s reached the bottom of the ladder, and he and Magnus carry it between them. It’s quiet down here. The whole ship’s quiet now.

‘How’s your back?’ asks Gibson, while Magnus unwinds the washing line -

‘’S fine.’

‘Have I upset you, Magnus?’

Magnus freezes, daring a brief look at Gibson’s gentle face. He’s grown his beard out. It looks soft.

‘Nah.’

‘Feels like you’ve been avoiding me,’ says Gibson, and Magnus feels his ears heat up, ‘thought I’d done something wrong.’

‘No,’ says Magnus, turning away to hide his blush, ‘not that -’

‘So you _have_ been avoiding me,’ says Gibson, half question and half triumphant statement.

‘No!’ Magnus says again, ‘It’s that - Lieutenant Irving -’

‘Irving?’

‘Well, Mr Hickey said -’

‘Mr Hickey?’ says Gibson, laughing with that throaty stop in his voice that appears sometimes, out of earshot of the officers, which walks his accent north up the map like compass legs - ‘You’d think Mr Hickey would have learned to mind his own business by now, huh?’

Magnus won’t look at him.

‘I mean it,’ says Gibson, ‘what’s Mr Hickey know? Less sense than a rat. A rat runs _away_ from trouble -’

‘Mr Gibson,’ says Magnus -

‘- and enough of that, too. I’m not superior to you. Told you before that I was a seaman, not even an AB, should be calling you _Mr Manson_.’

‘No,’ says Magnus, terrified that if he should turn he’d do something unforgivable, now that Mr Hickey’s planted the idea in his mind, simple as he is -

‘Whatever he’s told you about me,’ Gibson starts, and Magnus is so taken aback he turns without thinking -

‘Never told me anything about you.’

‘Oh.’ the skin between Gibson’s brows crumples; he’s close enough that Magnus could just lean over and press his lips to it, and he surprises himself by not wanting to. Gibson steps back, puts his red hands into the basket of frozen sheets again.

‘You know my name’s Billy, right? You can call me that, if you want.’

The ship creaks.

‘Mr Hickey -’ Billy pauses, but he doesn’t say the name with the force he had before, ‘he underestimates people. Armitage is lucky that he read the Captain right, that time -’

‘How’d you know about -’

‘Four fellows covered in snow, and only three of them did it? Give me some credit. But that’s what I mean, see? Thinks he’s got everyone. He doesn’t _have_ to have you.’

Magnus shrugs, pokes in the basket. The bell rings the next deck up.

'Listen,' says Billy, and he puts his hand over Magnus' as he stands to go up - so much colder than he'd expected, 'if Mr Hickey tells you to do something you're not sure about, run it by me first.'

**Author's Note:**

> I slot this in rarepair week bc why not. For my bingo square 'Tuunbaq'


End file.
